New Beginnings
by Salome Sensei
Summary: NEWEST Sesshomaru/adultRin adventure, after "Withholding." A mystical sword and the violence it brings complicate life for the mated pair and introduce Miroku and all the Inutachi to the mix. Adults only. Ch. 13 up. NO MORE HIATUS. Let's do this, Daikano!
1. Chapter 1

© Salome Wilde, 2008

New Beginnings

Author's Notes: 1) One viable explanation for why we love Sesshomaru, via feminist film theory: "He is for most American women, the male ideal—cultured, genteel, refined, repressed, with a slight antagonism toward women that is not congenital but the result of an earlier wound or disillusionment, and therefore curable. But it is curable only by her. About all other women he continues to be cynical and disbelieving, and thus his fidelity is assured. He is, like the celibate clergyman or 'confirmed bachelor,' a challenge to a woman, and a relief from the sexually aggressive male." –Molly Haskell, _From Reverence to Rape: The Treatment of Women in the Movies_ (2nd ed., U Chicago Press, 1987).

2) Ernest Hemingway may have said that the scariest thing in the world to him was a blank sheet of paper, but it's life to me. This week, as I face the recent death by stroke of a dear friend, the blank paper (i.e. opening a new document in Word) has been heartwarming and life-affirming. Coming back so soon to the Sesshomaru and adult Rin story arc I've created is exciting, rewarding, arousing—and necessary. Thank you with all my heart to every reader and every reviewer who has perused even a chapter of it. With mortality ever at nipping at our heels, knowing I can write beyond "The End" in this way is pure magic. Cheesy romance based on someone else's text this may be, but writing this makes me (and I hope you) feel alive.

Chapter 1

He had been gone three days. But, to Rin, three days were nothing compared to the two nights between them. It had always been hard emotionally to be apart from him, but the bond they shared as mates now made it physically painful, too. She strove to meet the challenge, keeping her mind and hands as busy as she could with small tasks, rigorous training, and plans of her own for their future. Still, though, it was an effort.

Now, when he had at last returned, he had scarcely a word for her. For Jaken, however, he had a two pieces of a long, broken sword that shone with a strange blue light and was covered with ancient writing. The two pored over the item together, leaving Rin feeling ignorant and isolated. She had things she wanted to discuss with Sesshomaru, had been waiting for his return to tell him. And things to show him, too, things both intimate and soldierly. But they would have to wait. Trying not to betray her impatience, she sat beside Sesshomaru, as close as she could to his body without being so obvious that Jaken would scold her for disrupting their work. Simply not reaching out to stroke the fur at his shoulder was a lesson in strictest discipline. It rested softly against his neck and his cheek, impossibly soft. Though he would not admit it, she was certain he relished its feel against his skin as much as she did. She had learned only recently just how erotically charged this unique inuyokai part of his body was—for both of them.

Apparently, the sword was a holy item Sesshomaru had long sought. He had expected to find it whole and to wrest it with a bit of effort. But when he finally found its resting place, it was unprotected and already shattered and incomplete. Rin listened to the story of monks who commissioned and blessed the sword with sacred magic at its forging. They intended to use it against Sesshomaru's father but never had opportunity. The Great Dog Demon had visited the monks' village only once. He had been told the temple held a jewel with the power to blind dragons. However, he found no such item there and had no intention of returning once he left. Had he found the jewel, perhaps his battle with Ryukotsusei shortly thereafter would have gone differently. The monks, however, labored on, unaware of his fate. They were as certain he would return to destroy them all as the Great Dog Demon was certain he could defeat Ryukotsusei.

Sesshomaru held out his new possession: the weapon's hilt and the first half of its length. Jaken made appreciative sounds at its elegant design and lamented its current state. Sesshomaru made plain his intention to retrieve the missing third. Perhaps it could be refashioned for his own use. The long-dead monks had somehow kept his father from the blinding jewel—which Sesshomaru could find no trace of either in the abandoned temple, so they owed him at least this weapon. Who had destroyed it, how, and why two of its three pieces had been abandoned and the temple in ruins was not discussed, leaving Rin to wonder whether perhaps Sesshomaru and Jaken already knew.

Sesshomaru stood and sheathed the fragments of the sword within his belt. He turned, at last, to Rin and inquired how she had spent her time while he was gone. Though she might have liked to ask what his plans were for finding the rest of the fascinating weapon and perhaps searching for that jewel, she knew this was her opportunity to display the fighting technique she had been practicing, with great success on Jaken's poor green hide, for the past two days. She would leave the more serious matter she had for discussion until they were alone and the mood felt right. She told her mate that she had been working hard with her staff and would be pleased to show him her progress. His dismissive "Later, Rin" left her disappointed. Perhaps he was weary from his journey, but why ask her what she had been doing if he did not really wish to know? Was it only in the darkness that he found value in her company?

When he turned his back to walk away, Rin breathed in his scent and found it projected a longing that his words and actions belied. The contradictions were maddening. In her eighteen-year-old way, she told herself that she was always clear and unambiguous in her word and deed. Her life was aimed always in one direction: Sesshomaru's happiness. Well, their happiness together, anyway. And though his desires may have been directed similarly, he could be so infuriating with that aloof demon way he had. Well, she could annoy him, too, she thought, suddenly swinging her staff and trying to take Sesshomaru's feet out from beneath him. Sesshomaru nimbly stepped onto the end of the staff as it swept by. Rin was thrown down with her weapon, since she would not release it. Wincing from the pain of knuckles trapped between staff and hard earth, she lifted her soiled face and spat dirt. Sesshomaru did not move. "And now, what will be your countermove, my Rin?" he asked.

She ground her teeth and struggled to rise, without success. Sesshomaru lifted his foot and released the staff. Rin let her head drop back down. "I hope you will bathe before you come to me tonight, my mate. I do not wish to have the odor of the earth interfere with my enjoyment of the way you smell when you sleep."

Rin growled something vaguely obscene at his back as he walked away. How could he so casually—and so loudly—refer to something so intimate between them? The fact that their scents changed as they slept was an amazing secret she had only recently learned. When she had announced it to Sesshomaru, hoping to surprise him with the exciting discovery, he had been entirely nonchalant, offering only a "Yes, Rin," to indicate his prior knowledge. It was almost as though he'd been enjoying her sexually without her awareness. She blushed hotly and refused to sleep beside him that night.

For Rin, the discovery of his sleeping scent was a small miracle. The day she found out was a beautiful accident of the otherwise unremarkable early morning, when she had somehow miraculously awakened before Sesshomaru and remained unmoving enough to enjoy his slumber without rousing him. He was often alert and active while she still slumbered, and she hated his ease in slipping away without waking her. But that one morning, and several times since then, she had been able to take in the magic that was the sight and scent of Sesshomaru at rest. Lying on his back with her at his side—in the crook of his arm or, as she most adored, with both her arm and a leg wrapped tightly across him—she could come to consciousness with his aroma already invading her every pore. When asleep, Sesshomaru's smell was especially sweet and precious: like a young peach, almost ripe but flowery and light, not like the richness of matured fruit. Rin loved to sample and "taste" him this way. Even after many months of being permitted to sleep most nights at his side (when he was not away or in need of solitude), his scent was still a fascinating phenomenon and powerful aphrodisiac. Hence, it was rare that she enjoyed more than a few inhalations before she had to hold him tighter or wriggle against him until he woke and either chided her or bedded her.

In light of such intimacy, she especially hated how casually he was treating her now and how easily he had defeated her attempt to topple or even surprise him with her staff. Yet, she could not stay angry with him. His mention of sleeping with her made her heart pound and moistness pool between her legs. And, after all, he spent less and less time away as the months passed and seemed to need fewer and fewer nights of solitude.

She cherished his every acknowledgment of their closeness. At times, she would even intentionally involve herself in hearing tales of Jaken's youth or tanning hides until late in the evening so that Sesshomaru had to summon her to his side when he wished her to sleep beside him. The sound of his deep, dispassionate voice beckoning "Come to me, Rin," was a treasure. Now that they were mated, she always knew when he needed her. Still, she loved to hear it from his own beautiful lips.

Beyond such indulgences, the depth of affection and commitment she now shared with Sesshomaru was truly beyond words. Now and then, she would think back a season and more ago and marvel at the torrent of speech that had needed to be exchanged between them. Their scents and their bodies now spoke love and resolved conflict in ways for which language had been so necessary only a scant few months before.

Some things, of course, still needed words. Jaken's response to full knowledge of their bond was characteristically vocal. He whined and railed to Rin when Sesshomaru was not within hearing range, and occasionally when he was (receiving for his indiscretion the occasional hard kick in the seat of the hakama). Such punishment, of course, made the little yokai bow and fawn grotesquely afterward. Rin's increasing defenses of Jaken became more to avoid witnessing such displays of toadying than because she hated seeing him beaten. In fact, over the ten years the three had spent together, Rin had become increasingly convinced that Jaken had a masochistic streak as wide as a river. Moreover, she thought, Sesshomaru had to be aware of this and did not refrain from encouraging it. One of those male yokai things, she mused, and resolved to be mature enough not to concern or involve herself in it. After all, Jaken was the only other being she knew who worshipped Sesshomaru with a passion nearly matching hers. That entitled him to at least some of her mate's attention, and if the intimacy was limited to the occasional smack in the head, she could be big enough to refrain from jealousy.

Dejectedly, Rin walked to the small stream not far from their encampment. She stripped and brushed off her kimono with a surge of adrenalin that denoted both excitement at Sesshomaru's return and frustration at his demeanor. In only a few hours, she would be again naked and in his arms. The thought and the cool autumn air brought chills to her youthful flesh. Yet, that he had not been more demonstratively pleased to see her and had so embarrassed her before Jaken (never mind that she was the fool who tried so obvious and ineffective a fighting technique on him) left her pouting. Shivering as she splashed herself with cool, clear water, she resolved to keep their intimate reunion as delightful as possible by leaving any serious discussion until the next morning.

Refreshing her body in the stream helped her mind as well. She wiped and shook the water from her body, and then redressed herself. As she walked back, she sniffed the air and detected the smell of fish cooking over a fire. She realized she was ravenous (Sesshomaru's return after any absence always gave her a great appetite) and hurried back. The agreement she had with Jaken that one of them would catch or gather food and the other would prepare it worked very well, but he had a tendency to overcook fish. As she came upon him, humming to himself as he flipped the skewered mackerel, she smiled. She was glad they had worked out an amicable relationship, especially after his hysteria when he learned Sesshomaru had taken her as his mate.

Jaken's initial panic revolved around two primary complaints, both of which were shared, loudly and frequently, with Rin. Sesshomaru had heard no more than his gasping disbelief before he gave such a glare that Jaken fell to his knees and pleaded for his life. Once alone with Rin, however, he had no hesitation about giving forceful utterance to his deepest fears. First, he whined that his status with Lord Sesshomaru would be reduced. Rin should not presume that greater intimacy meant higher standing as a follower or (gods forbid!) equality with their omnipotent master. Translation: outrageous envy that Sesshomaru ignored. Rin was able to pacify Jaken somewhat by continuing to refer to the little green yokai with the honorific and walking behind him as often as possible on their journeys (though this was difficult because she was finding it increasingly hard to keep her hands off of Sesshomaru, day or night).

Second, he complained that Sesshomaru's safety would be compromised. He would not protect his own life first but would prefer Rin's, and this could endanger him. Translation: wild-eyed jealousy that Sesshomaru ignored. Rin was able to ease Jaken's heart somewhat by assuring him that she would sacrifice her life for Sesshomaru's (and she meant it) and by training long and hard to defend herself against the frequent demonic and occasional human threats they faced.

But now she was finding that she needed more than Jaken could teach her and had sought the help of another warrior. Greater than Jaken, to be sure, yet lesser than Sesshomaru, who still resisted working actively with her despite her frequent requests and displays like the one that now left her washing dirt from her mouth. There was no question that her mate enjoyed the fruits of her training regimen as she playfully struggled to release herself when he held her strong arms pinned overhead as he teased and nipped at the sensitive flesh of her nipples or belly. And he could not fail to notice the growing power of her thighs as she wrapped them around his slender waist as he bore into her soft, yielding core. Nonetheless, she wanted more. She wanted his respect, and not only for her determination to find compromise and satisfaction as mates, but as a fighter, as an adherent. And so, without his or Jaken's knowledge, she had gone elsewhere.

Dinner for the three was a quiet, rather somber affair. Sesshomaru, as always, respectfully refused any offers of food. To please Rin, he might sample a berry or two, but meals to Sesshomaru seemed primarily a ritual through which to display acknowledgment of his relationship to his followers. He joined them at dinner, looking out impassively across the darkening sky, to show he valued them. Eating was one of those intensely private matters for Sesshomaru, it seemed. Even Jaken could not say exactly what or how often Lord Sesshomaru took nourishment, though his contention was that it involved hunting for large game that he devoured raw and whole. Rin preferred to think that he was beyond mortal need for food, partly because she could not guess at how he could keep the blood off of himself and his beautiful white robes if he were truly the carnivorous beast Jaken portrayed. That he was as lustful a creature as she now knew him so well to be had shaken her on this issue, but it was not a topic they had yet broached.

Tonight, certainly, was not a night for broaching private matters. Rin enjoyed her mate's proximity yet sensed tension within him. Likely obvious only to a mate, Sesshomaru was pensive, ill at ease as he sat beside her. Jaken chattered on obliviously, but Rin was silent and still. She longed to hold Sesshomaru in her arms and relieve the tension that coursed through him and reached her with each inhalation. She closed her eyes and projected images of her lips brushing up against his, their bodies entwining, and the way she felt when he was hilted inside her. She searched for a change in his scent in response, but little came back to her. He was not blocking himself from her—they both vowed never to withhold from one another that way again—but he was controlling himself, restraining his reactions somehow. She would coax him from this mood soon. After all, had he not said he wished her to come to him that night?

When at last Sesshomaru rose and took his leave (in the middle of Jaken's narrative of some glorious battle he and Sesshomaru had engaged in before Rin came into their lives), Rin's heart beat wildly. With each step he took away from her, she faced the possibility that he would not summon her. And though she longed to assert herself by rising and joining him, with or without invitation, she still needed the reassurance that only his summons could provide. Suddenly, it came. "Rin," sounded Sesshomaru's voice, the one word blending command, appeal, assurance, and declaration of desire. Rin rose and ran, leaving Jaken's protests of rudeness to float futilely through the air after her.

However hesitant she was to go to him without being called, she did not hold back from embracing him once at his side. Beyond the firelight and beneath the light of the crescent moon, she threw herself into his arms and reached up on tiptoe to press a warm kiss to his lips. Sesshomaru allowed it but did not return it. Nor did he take her in his arms. She stepped slightly back and tipped her head up to look into his wide, golden eyes. A few months before, she would have asked him to hold or reassure her. Now, she merely kept her arms loosely around him and waited for him to speak.

At last, he did. "When were you going to tell me that you have been to see Inuyasha?"

- - - - - - - - -

Note: Now that I've mentioned it at the beginning of the chapter, I'm contemplating writing a one-shot lemon "Rin Discovers What the Mokomoko is For" story. Surely others have already done this, yes?


	2. Chapter 2

© Salome Wilde, 2008

New Beginnings

Author's Note: Please forgive the delay. I've wanted to catch up on a few other stories of late, and a five-chapter Sesshomaru/Miroku tale seemed to pour, fully formed, from my brain. But I'm back to my main squeeze Sesshomaru/adult Rin action now. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 2

Rin blushed hotly and dropped her arms from around Sesshomaru's shoulders. His eyes narrowed. That she released him reinforced his disquiet and justified the edge of jealous anger he loathed admitting to himself even more than he detested feeling it. As always for Sesshomaru, having a mate was at best a mixed bargain and at worst a threat. Finding new ways to enjoy Rin's body and for her to enjoy his was arousing and diverting. Just smelling her on the wind was more pleasure than he'd had in dozens of years. And there was ultimately something that simply felt "right" about the bond. It need not be questioned. Yet, he thought, looking at her downturned face after his questioning of her recent visit to or from Inuyasha (for she reeked of the accursed hanyo), there was plenty to complain of. Simply put, what formerly vexed him now dug into him like poisoned talons and threatened his self-control.

"Speak, Rin," he said, quietly. He knew she could not explain, but if she were honest and contrite enough, the unwanted reaction that menaced him could be held at bay, managed, extinguished.

Rin felt like a fool for not realizing he would smell his half-brother on her, even though she had not even touched Inuyasha. It was Kagome she had gone to see, in any case, and she had scouted well to be sure Inuyasha was gone when she arrived. It must have been holding their child, Eien, which had left the scent on her. Even after two days, washing her kimono, and multiple baths that left Jaken wondering what had suddenly made her such a fanatic about cleanliness, he still picked up the scent. Should she make light of the matter, confessing her attempts to wash away the essence? She looked up to see if perhaps this was one of those rare occasions when Sesshomaru might be in a mood to be cajoled. His hard, unblinking gaze made plain it was not. Frowning, she realized she could count on one hand the number of times in over ten years that he had been in such a mood.

Knowing she needed to talk and talk now, she tried another approach. "You have not forbidden me to see Inuyasha, my mate," she said in a tone of confidence she did not truly feel. Referencing their bond, she hoped, would add persuasive warmth.

His glare did not soften, even though she did speak the truth. Rin began to flush anew, now not from embarrassment but with frustration. Why did he so often make her feel so small, so subservient, so _wrong_? What had she done? Inuyasha was not an enemy, he was Sesshomaru's brother. He was hanyo, and her mate hated hanyo. She knew that more deeply and more completely than anyone else living. That hatred made him refuse to release inside her. He would not have her bear his child because it could not but be hanyo. And that was why she went to see Kagome. But she would be damned if she would now confess to that to her cold, jealous mate.

Locking eyes and refusing to back down—even as his unrelenting stare made her want to cry—Rin did confess to herself that she had gone for more than just a question of how to avoid becoming with-child. She wanted to see the child born of hanyo and human and, yes, to see Inuyasha. Would not reconciliation between the brothers help Sesshomaru to release some of his prejudice and thereby bring him closer to her? Was what she wanted truly wrong?

She knew she would have to speak again. Sesshomaru always won these battles of will because he could remain silent for so long. He could be still, sullen, cold, and distant longer than any other being alive, she was certain. She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to remember that such traits made him an indomitable adversary, one that had protected her since the day he brought her back from death itself. She sighed and let her eyes drop. "Before I tell you what I did and why, Sesshomaru, will you at least tell me you trust me enough to know that I would never intentionally do anything to harm you or our bond?"

Sesshomaru exhaled audibly. She could feel that he did not want to offer even this much. At last, he opened his mouth to reply, and Rin knew instantly she would be grateful for any words at all. His willingness to accept in any manner the condition of her confession was more miracle than she had ever dared expect from him when he had first claimed her as his mate.

"Not intentionally" was his two-word concession. He fell silent again.

Rin smiled. She yearned to kiss him again, but she did not want to be rejected or have her affection passively tolerated. Right now, rejection was the more likely. But she was so pleased with his small response and longed to have him know. So, she smiled. Warmly, openly, and with perhaps just the slightest intention of postponing the inevitable just a bit longer. Sesshomaru did not return the smile.

Suddenly, she found herself declaring everything in a rush, not even daring to breathe between sentences. "I went because it hurts that you won't give yourself fully to me and I hate when you withdraw and finish when you're not inside me and their baby is one now and even walking and she's so beautiful with her thick, black hair and golden eyes and when I told Kagome I was your mate she looked confused but she told me she was happy for me if I am happy and I told her I am very happy and she said that if you take me just before or just after I bleed each cycle then I'll be unlikely to have a baby and I didn't even see Inuyasha though if I had I'd only have told him that I hope someday you and he will be able to love each other as family and I'm so proud to be your mate and please don't be angry because if you are you won't hold me tonight and that will hurt us both so please don't push me away just to prove a point, please, Sesshomaru-sama." By the time she got to the final phrase, she was entirely out-of-breath and tears were forming in her large, brown eyes. She hadn't intended to use the honorific, but at least she had successfully fought the urge to kneel and press her face to the earth before him.

"Rin," Sesshomaru said with quiet authority, once he was sure her diatribe was concluded. That she had run out of oxygen was likely more the reason for the pause than that she had finished what she had to say, but he had heard more than enough. Calling her to attention by saying her name always succeeded, calmed her and made her attentive to his needs. He disliked the tears in her eyes. They were, as with all tears and most words, unnecessary. He wished her to wipe them away so he did not have to see or concern himself with them, but he would not ask her to do so. Her hurried explanation told him what he needed to know: she would indeed meddle in his relationship with Inuyasha, sooner or later, and now his half-brother and the fool of a reincarnated priestess he had made his mate and borne offspring with both knew of his bond with Rin. He assured himself that he was not ashamed of his mate, and it did not matter whether they understood his decision or not. He explained himself to no one, not even—if it could be avoided—to Rin. And, in any case, he had more important issues to deal with. The missing piece of the sword had to be found, and that blinding jewel would be another welcome treasure to reinforce his power. For tonight, though, all such matters could rest. Despite or perhaps because of her distasteful stench, he needed Rin. "Come, Rin. We will talk further of your propensity for indiscretion, not to mention unaccompanied travel, in the morning."

Rin swallowed hard and wiped away her tears. She hadn't even thought to apologize for that part. There was no denying that being Sesshomaru's mate did not render her truly adult in his eyes, if adult meant capable of making independent decisions and acting upon them. Perhaps they should talk about _that_. Catching the scent of his fragrant body as he walked ahead, she was willingly lulled into recognition that tomorrow would be more than soon enough for additional discussion of any sort between them.

When Sesshomaru paused before a spreading oak and slowly began to remove his garments, she thought perhaps even additional rational thought might be discardable for this night.

. . .

Author's Note: So…shall I skip the lemon and begin the next chapter in the morning, my friends? /grin/


	3. Chapter 3

© Salome Wilde, 2008

New Beginnings

Author's Note: Ok, I erred in leaving Sesshomaru with only one arm in the earlier part of this story arc and juggled Tokijin and Bakusaiga--because I haven't gotten that far in the manga so I didn't know he got his arm back or that he got a new sword until recently!! Bad me! /hangs head/ From now on, I'll reference Bakusaiga not Tokijin and correct the arm issue -- and happy to do so. There's nothing like being able to grab someone by the hips and ride…among other things. Here's that lemon, y'all well, half a lemon anyway…

Chapter 3

If Rin had any doubts that Sesshomaru had come to enjoy the way she ogled his naked body, they were firmly dismissed as he stretched out beneath the massive oak. Leaning back on his elbows, he crossed his ankles and let his mokomoko drift across his lap. Rin tried to match even a shard of his elegance as she removed her kimono, but she knew she was hopelessly outshone before she began. Beside other humans, she felt she could perhaps hold her own, but not with Sesshomaru and that ungodly allure. Had he not been so entirely hers, she might have found herself pouting at moments like these, or jealous, wishing the night were moonless. Yet, if there were no light, she would not have been able to enjoy the pale glory of his flat-muscled chest, his long, slender legs, and that deceptively gentle-looking face. He might not let her stare long, but he did let her look, perhaps even welcomed it.

Rin shivered, both from the light chill in the air and Sesshomaru's unblinking gaze. As difficult as it was to read his eyes, it was easier when accompanied by an outstretched hand. Sesshomaru beckoned her as the fur at his shoulder slid from his lap to grasp her waist. As the mokomoko shifted, it unveiled that perfect marble hardness she longed to caress as much as that plush pelt. The core of his yokai nature was in that fur as his manhood was in his cock. That she could be excited by and excite both provided her unutterable pleasure and pride.

Experiencing his arousal brought her as close to her distant yet passionate lord's secrets as anyone could ever hope to reach. In fact, the throes of desire were the only times she had ever seen Sesshomaru release his control. So, she craved him inside her when he unleashed that desire fully and would do much to have it. But now was not the time for thinking of such things, or anything else that would bring tension between them.

At this moment, after days of absence, she wanted him, ached with the need of him. She wanted to touch him, for him to touch her; every part of him, every part of her. She sought to become touch itself: a being of sense and sensation, driven by need to reach a heart that was buried under layers of self-control and self-denial like thick-crusted snow on a mountain's peak. Taking the hand he proffered, she began to climb.

As she came to crouch over his lap, she could barely resist the desire to slip that hard shaft inside her. She could smell Sesshomaru's desire to be deep within her. She anticipated the small, sharp pain of his claws in her hips, taking control of her body and using his power to bring them both pleasure. Yet, she also longed to experience a bit of her own power, to take him on a journey, show him something new. Instead of enveloping him, she arched forward and ground herself along the length of him, parting her lips around him and holding him in her wet, pink grasp. As she moved forward, she brought her face to his. She could not read his eyes, but neither could she mistake the barely perceptible change in the delicate curve of his mouth. On any other man, it would be unnoticeable. On Sesshomaru, it was a wide grin.

Again opting for the unexpected, she did not attempt to kiss him, but instead turned her face down and began to ride him in earnest. Digging her nails into his chest and grinding her hips back and forth across him, she stimulated herself through his body. And as he pressed his hips up and held them for her, releasing her except for the fur that she knew stimulated him as well as her, she enjoyed a selfish pleasure she barely knew she desired. His desire made him blossom with his familiar musk. As she rode, she grew swollen and sensitive and flowed with liquid desire. Beneath her thick curtain of hair, her breath sang in her ears. She felt her heart race and her breathing grow hot and shallow. All she could smell was the magical alchemy of his aura and her body. All she could see was the chest she gripped with increasing ferocity. Apart from the tickle of that fur, he was so deliciously firm, so gorgeous in his passive hardness. She craved him inside her but would not yield to that temptation. Rubbing herself exquisitely raw against him, she reached the summit and hurtled over its edge as her nails carved tiny crescents in his alabaster flesh.

As her body pitched and tumbled through aftershocks that left her dizzy, Sesshomaru grabbed her beneath her arms and hoisted her forward onto his mouth. He fed from her as he drove her on, through fluttered contractions and exquisite hypersensitivity. Sooner than she thought possible, his agile tongue and carefully utilized fangs sent her skyward again. Rather than moving his head, he was guiding her body by underarm and waist, pushing and pulling her across his mouth as she had ridden his cock only moments before. As she gasped with pleasure and felt the heavens begin to open again, her body was suddenly flung forward and she found herself impaled, filled, and rocked to her core. Her eyes flew open and she saw her mate's tawny orbs flash as he manipulated her body over him. Again and again he hilted himself within her, and she fought to keep focused on his face as he used her. It was hard, precise, and intense—yet soon she began to feel that something was wrong. She sensed he was somehow frustrated…with her? She sought his scent, where truth always lay with her mate, and found a hesitance, a tension she could not explain, and what she could only think of as a strangeness, a foreignness that confused her.

She attempted to regain some control over her body, thinking this would perhaps please him and he would again feel and smell as he should. He resisted, gripping her more tightly with the fur at her waist until the constriction made it difficult to breathe. He seemed unable to attain the rhythm he sought, and she felt he was fighting a battle within himself that he would neither allow her to enter nor could he forego it. His eyes grew clouded then closed, and she began to be afraid. He was not hurting her; in fact, his use of her body would otherwise have been bringing her pleasure. But with the tension inside him that reached her through their bond as well as her sensitivity to his moods, developed through their decade of life together, she became as tense as he.

Though it was difficult to catch her breath as he continued to drive her onto his shaft with increasing harshness, she gasped his name. He responded instantly. His eyes snapped open and she thought she saw them glow red before they returned to their usual molten gold. They searched hers fervently, and she could sense at once that he misunderstood her cry. He released her and let his mokomoko slip from around her torso. At the risk of initiating a conflict between them that she loathed even to think about, she threw herself into his arms and spoke: "Sesshomaru, tell me what is wrong."

Almost simultaneously came an uncharacteristically soft query, as he sat up and held her at arm's length: "Have I hurt you, Rin?"

"No, of course not," Rin exclaimed, desperate to reassure him and increasingly distressed by the alienness of his scent. She forced herself to relax into his grip.

"Frightened you somehow, then?" he retorted, shaking her.

She shook her head vigorously. She could tell he did not mean to hold her so tightly, to shake her so aggressively, to let his claws begin to bite into her tender skin, but she did not know what this meant, what was happening here. She thought to speak again, and then decided against it. No, rather than offering more futile words, she reached within herself and projected the unconditional love and absolute surrender she thought might reach him.

Watching him breathe it in, she stilled her body and mind and hoped. It took effort not to react to whatever it was that felt wrong about his aura, but she succeeded in that self-control that enabled her to love and be mate to the dangerous inuyokai on whose lap she now sat.

After long moments with neither word nor motion, Sesshomaru gently but firmly moved her from his lap and rose. Turning and walking away from her, he called over his shoulder: "I will sleep elsewhere tonight, Rin."


	4. Chapter 4

© Salome Wilde, 2008

New Beginnings

Author's Note: Yes, I was cruel to tease you with that half-lemon. This chapter is far crueler. But if you go through the hurt with me, I promise the comfort before the story ends. And I know there are some of you for whom the pain is where the pleasure lies. I am grateful for both kinds of readers.

Chapter 4

Self-control streamed from Rin's body like blood from a fatal wound. How many times could he close himself off from her, physically and emotionally, and expect her to have enough blood, enough breath, enough love to survive? How much more submission was enough to prove herself worthy to know him? The answer to her questions came in the single, desperate word she cried out: "No!"

Sesshomaru stopped dead.

Rin's blood pounded in her ears. She had risen to her feet and now stood, bravely facing her lord and mate, his beautiful, unbending form silhouetted against the moon. She would not coax, beg, or cry. She could not say why she had reached this turning point at this time, but a turning point it was. This was far from the first time his mood had shifted suddenly and radically. And she had always responded with understanding. He had slept apart from her as many nights as he had spent with her since they had become mates. And she had accepted this as necessary to him. He kept his thoughts and feelings from her unless his scent betrayed him. And she had respected this as his nature.

This was the incomparable daiyokai who had saved her life when he could have so easily left her for dead, who had kept her with him when he could have sent her away, who had rescued her rather than surrender her to those, like Naraku, who had so easily used her for bait. She was such a sad, weak child and he had given her life, hope, and returned her voice to her. From that dumb, broken girl she had grown into a strong, capable woman. And how did she use her abilities, her voice? She did not. She let herself be silenced again and again, returned to that dependent state when a true mate would rise to the challenge and demand more—for them both.

Less frantically, with greater confidence and a death-defying love, she repeated, "No." She was not asking, she was not pleading. In this one word, she was asserting her will.

Sesshomaru spun to face her. But it was not Sesshomaru. This was a true demon, filled with unreasoning rage. The deceptively calm demeanor she saw in his eyes, even in the heat of battle, was gone now, replaced by an animal she did not know. His body was taut, like a bow about to unleash an arrow into her heart. His smell was dark and thick; it burned her nostrils and forced its way into her lungs. His mouth twisted into a smile and his fangs shone in the moonlight. His eyes shot fire from their golden depths, and she watched in horror as they turned to red. An unearthly growl surfaced from his throat, and before she could move he was upon her.

As she was thrown to the earth, her head struck the ground, hard. There was a flash behind her eyes, and she struggled against pain and dizziness to attempt some control over her body. Extended claws dug into her arms and began to pierce the skin. His weight was upon her thighs. As she managed to focus again, she met the appalling sight of narrowed, blood-red eyes above an tight, feral grin. "Sesshomaru-sama," she whimpered, once again a terrified child.

The daiyokai did not answer, merely shifted his lithe, menacing body and kicked her legs wide with a knee. Rin's fists clenched, and she wished she could close her eyes. But she could not. She had wanted to see more of her mate, hadn't she? To know him truly, fully?

She nearly passed out from the throbbing in her head and the overpowering aura that reeked from Sesshomaru's every pore, but as he positioned himself to enter her, she knew she would not escape this moment in unconsciousness. Hilting his rigid, swollen shaft within her in a single lunge, Sesshomaru's howl of conquest arced to triumph over the shrill scream torn from Rin's very soul.

Withdrawing fully only to plunge in again, Rin realized her tormentor was not going to make this quick. He reared back, looking down at the horror she knew was fully in her eyes, then thrust into her again. Each attack left her feeling ripped open anew, and she could find no way to resist or ease the abuse. Her cries seemed only to inspire further cruelty. He bent to sink his teeth into her jaw as he began to drive into her in earnest, thrusting as deep and hard as he could, tearing at the flesh of her arms with his claws, and feasting on her with fanged pleasure. Rin had no choice but to surrender her body, and with it, her will. Her consciousness soon followed into blankness.

The red-eyed demon continued to ride her, heedless of the way her body slackened and the shift in her scent. He took his prey and relished her fear as well as her inevitable surrender. He knew in his demon soul that it was right that the weak must submit to the strong, that this human should be used at his whim and destroyed upon impulse. Claiming a human this way reflected his demon omnipotence back to him, and he took pleasure in it.

The pleasure shifted suddenly, however, when Sesshomaru's climax hit him. He roared as it rocked his body, but it brought with it something wrong, a feeling of doubleness within him. There was the self that rode the wave of gratifying power, filling the human with his rush of fluid release. And there was another self, raging against the satisfaction, resisting the desire to kill the human now that he had taken his fill of her body.

Sesshomaru rose and released his grip on Rin, who lay, pale and still. He focused and cleared his gaze, and then there was a searing pain that tore his split selves apart. He watched his seed, mixed with blood, drip from between her legs. His body returned fully to his control, and he fell to his knees to take Rin into his arms.


	5. Chapter 5

© Salome Wilde, 2008

© Salome Wilde, 2008

New Beginnings

Author's Note: I wonder if you can possibly know how thrilled it makes me to have the hits and reviews come so fast and furious for this story? You humble and inspire me and keep me vacillating between two selves: the chibi me with little sweatdrop at the brow -- knowing I have to work hard to please you -- and the hot-and-bothered me enjoying the pleasure of arousing and being aroused by writing this sexy/nasty/angsty romantic Sesshomaru/Rin fic. Ok, I better start explaining what the heck is going on with Sesshomaru, eh? I will. But slowly.

Chapter 5

Rin awoke feeling too warm and overly confined. The smell of rice cooking over a fire turned her stomach. Thoughts swirled through her mind on wings, flying forth then detaching themselves and dispersing before she could make sense of them. Why was Jaken cooking in the middle of the night? What made her jaw ache? Had someone torn her kimono? Was someone calling her name? Could she open her eyes if she wished? Why could she not smell her mate anymore?

This last question roused her fully. Her eyes flew open and she struggled to sit up, only to fall back again in pain. She panicked, feeling aches and twinges all over and fearing she had been kidnapped. A figure in red was pressing her shoulders down to keep her from rising again. Why? "Sesshomaru-sama!" Rin called out, her voice hoarse and unfamiliar to her ears.

"Lie still, Rin," the figure said.

Rin blinked and focused her gaze. She saw the Priestess Kikyo's face above hers, eyes as unreadable as Sesshomaru's, hands solid and firm on her body, voice surprisingly gentle. The confusion and alarm Rin felt must have been plain, for before she could speak again, Kikyo continued: "You must not open your wounds again, Rin. Please, be still."

The words "wounds" and "again" fueled the terror building inside Rin. What had happened? Where was her mate? She rose, despite the pain, and cried out: "Sesshomaru! Where is he, Kikyo? Is he hurt?" Her jaw throbbed and she brought a hand up to discover the bandages there.

Kikyo seemed to know that responding to Rin's questions would do more good than trying to control her body at this moment. "Sesshomaru is well, Rin. He brought you to me for healing. Now lie back and I will bring you some medicinal tea to ease your pain."

Rin remained sitting, gingerly feeling her tender jaw while frantically searching her mind for answers. What had happened to her? Why had Sesshomaru not stayed by her side? Why could she not remember? She felt a sudden, sharp twinge in both body and mind that pushed her away from these questions. Kikyo sighed at her upright posture and went to fetch the tea.

Throwing off the tightly wrapped covering in which she was swaddled, Rin found herself in a loose white robe. She untied it and looked down at her body. There were poultices and bandages all over her: arms and shoulders, breasts and torso, hips and thighs…and a thick, tight fundoshi-like wrapping, stained with blood, between her legs. It was seeing this last that made her scream.

Kikyo came swiftly back and took Rin into her arms. Rin clung to the priestess like a child. Images flashed through her mind of a savage demon, tearing her flesh and forcing himself into her, unheeding of her cries. He had taken control of her body then taken pleasure in her pain. She remembered the sound of his snarl in her ears and his demon eyes boring into her soul. The vicious beast had sought to destroy her spirit, though he had not wanted to kill her or she would not be alive now. His power, she recalled it in these fleeting bursts, was immense.

She began to sob. Why had she gone through this alone? Why had Sesshomaru not been there to save her? Kikyo held her close as she whimpered and wept.

"Come," Kikyo said when the spell of crying began to ebb. "Drink a little and let us talk, Rin."

Rin dried her eyes on the robe and refastened it. Then she took the offered cup from Kikyo and sipped. The warm tea felt good in her mouth and as it moved down her throat. It had a light flavor and soothing, floral aroma. She tried to concentrate on the tea, just the tea, reminding herself that she was safe and alive and, because she trusted Kikyo's word, so was her mate. Despite her efforts, her heart began to race again at that thought, for where was he? Nausea rushed upon her, and she could not tell whether it was from her injured state, the tea, or Sesshomaru's absence. Always, time apart from him was hard. She clung to his scent like a beacon in an otherwise overlarge and dangerous world. Far more dangerous now that she had discovered just how incapable she was of protecting herself. Her efforts to train in combat seemed more futile now than ever. Tears began to flow again and she started to feel in earnest the heavy, dull ache between her legs.

"The wounds should heal well, Rin," Kikyo stated, matter-of-factly. "You will have scars, on your face and perhaps your shoulders, but they should not be large if you continue to treat them as I have been doing."

Rin was grateful for her lack of emotion. It centered her, made her feel a little less fragile, and it was comforting in its familiarity. She wondered if this priestess and her mate realized just how similar they were.

Kikyo had paused in her speech. Rin noted that her eyes suddenly seemed far away. She wanted to speak -- to thank Kikyo for her care, to ask how long she had been there, to find out where Sesshomaru was -- but it was clear the priestess had more to say. "I do not think your ability to bear children has been compromised, but I cannot be certain."

Rin winced. She knew the demon's attack had included a sexual assault that even now rang in her mind and body. But she had not contemplated its implications beyond the pain and the traces of blood she saw on the cloth between her legs.

Kikyo continued. "You may discover the answer soon, Rin."

Soon? Rin's eyes grew wide with fear. It had not occurred to her that she could be with-child, that the despicable demon had released within her. In an instant, her mind raced through their heated discussions of intimacy and childbearing, Sesshomaru's loathing for hanyo, his unwillingness to have her bear his son or daughter, his disdain for his brother's choices…. Gods, what if she were now pregnant with the offspring of the demon who had assaulted her? If he could not love an infant they bore together, how deeply would he loathe her for bearing the child of another demon? She felt a sob rise again in her throat, but all that came forth was a whisper. "Sesshomaru," she mouthed.

"Yes, Rin."

Time stopped. Kikyo had spoken only two words. Words that denoted sympathy, confirmation. They were spoken in the same unemotional tone as all the priestess had thus far said. They could mean anything. But, in truth, they meant only one thing. She shook her head minutely, barely a gesture. The reality of who was behind those blood-red eyes, who had raked and torn her flesh, who had plunged into her yielding body with terrorizing and damaging intent assaulted her anew. Kikyo's two-word truth opened her to a reality she could not bear. The acknowledgment turned her fear and anguish into a deathwish. Just that swiftly. Rin wanted to disappear, to simply not be.

Her master and lord, her protector and savior, her mate and her love was also her assailant, her enemy. And now she might bear that hero-turned-villain's child. Life did not, could not exist with that impossible knowledge.


	6. Chapter 6

© Salome Wilde, 2008

© Salome Wilde, 2008

New Beginnings

Chapter 6

Jaken stumbled more than once under the cumbersome weight of the broken sword's two substantial pieces. The pommel had already smashed his left foot when the hilt slid from his arms, and the slender half-length of the blade was taller than Jaken himself. But Lord Sesshomaru had commanded him to bear the weapon on their expedition, and he did so. If he did so awkwardly and in pain, he also did so proudly. Well, proudly once Sesshomaru had responded to his complaint that Rin would make a better loadbearer. His master had made clear that Rin would not be joining them on this journey; she was visiting Priestess Kikyo. His terseness and a flash of scarlet in his eyes preempted any further questions on Jaken's part. Though he suspected there was more here than he could as yet discern, Jaken opted for silent obedience as a method of avoiding a demonstration of physical violence upon his person as well as an opportunity to spend some time alone with his lord. It had been too long since he had had Sesshomaru to himself. Hence, they set off and he carried (and fumbled and occasionally dropped) the fragmented weapon with determination and satisfaction.

They were headed, so Lord Sesshomaru indicated, for the small village where the monk Miroku lived. At the mention of his name, Jaken had goggled. Everyone knew that this former companion of his half-brother had grown belligerent and saké-addled over the years since the days of Naraku and the Shikon jewel. Why seek his assistance? Sesshomaru's reply indicated that it was only a desire not to damage the sword pieces that kept him from kicking Jaken down a mountainside.

Jaken did not doubt Sesshomaru's willingness to do him bodily harm, and he knew his master prized the enchanted sword's potential power. Having a quest was quite pleasing to the little yokai, who longed for days of battle and conquest over stewardship and domesticity. Yet, it was not only Rin's absence that made this mission troubling to Jaken. Something was not right with his master. Certainly, he need not carry the sword himself if he did not wish to, but why did he not wish to? And why did he walk so far ahead, almost beyond the reach of Jaken's shrill voice, and sleep at an even greater distance?

Sesshomaru had been quite covetous of the item when he had brought it, three nights previously. Jaken remembered the way Sesshomaru's elegant fingers played over the ornate, etched symbols that covered the segment's length and glowed an eerie blue in the moonlight. His lord wanted to understand and control that sword, and nothing would stop him. Jaken was honored to assist in accomplishing this task. But now Sesshomaru did not seem to want to touch it. That first night, he had taken the two pieces with him when he and Rin walked off to their private place of rest. But when morning came, Rin was gone and Sesshomaru bade Jaken retrieve and carry the sword on their journey. Even in the sunshine, the sword shone and beckoned with its mysteries. Jaken could feel it, though it did not move him as it obviously did Lord Sesshomaru.

With these thoughts pressing upon him and with further, purposeful observation over the next two days, Jaken began to notice subtle fluctuations in the sword as Sesshomaru's proximity to the weapon changed. When his lord paused to take note of direction or for other unspoken and unquestioned reason, Jaken took the opportunity to close the gap between them as much as he could, and he noted the broken blade grow deeper and richer in hue. At one point, he felt an actual pull to rid himself of the weapon and give it back into Sesshomaru's hands. Without indicating this feeling, Sesshomaru seemed—if he was not deceiving himself—to react to it, to put even more distance between them.

As the third day of their travels turned to night, Jaken became convinced that the sword, incomplete as it was, had tremendous power and that this power had a marked effect on Sesshomaru in particular. And with this growing understanding came awareness of the likelihood that Sesshomaru had sent Rin away because of this. So, was it then Jaken's unspoken task to convey the sword safely to one who could control, perhaps bind it, and keep it from any negative effect on Sesshomaru while he searched—with Jaken at his side—for the missing third? More importantly, should they even search for the rest of it? Whatever the answers to his questions and surmises, this last he could not ask.

As the quarter moon reached its zenith in the sky, Sesshomaru indicated that Jaken would be allowed to rest, if he wished. There was tension in Sesshomaru's voice. Jaken doubted that any other being in the world, including the pampered Rin, would be able to detect the subtle change in tone and pitch. Jaken was torn: they could reach the monk before daybreak if they continued on, and he certainly could not rest until he better understood the sword's powers; yet, if they did stop, he might find a way to get Lord Sesshomaru to address the way the fractured weapon was affecting him.

The second option he dismissed as quickly as he thought of it, however. If the blade was impacting Sesshomaru and he already knew it was doing so, then he also either knew how best to deal with it or was unwilling to consider the matter further. As always with his master, the feeling that there were options to be deliberated was illusory.

"I do not need rest, Sesshomaru-sama," Jaken offered with uncharacteristic tenderness in his voice.

Sesshomaru's gaze instantly closed the distance between himself and his follower. Jaken feared his lord had noted and resented the gentle tone in which he had spoken, though he did not react beyond the intensity of eye contact. After a long, strange moment, the inuyokai turned and resumed his pace.


	7. Chapter 7

© Salome Wilde, 2008

© Salome Wilde, 2008

New Beginnings

Chapter 7

There was a time when Kikyo had been so much like Rin. Emotions had swayed her from logic; passion had ruled her emotions. When she remembered that time—the way his hair swung, thick and tousled behind him; the softness in his eyes and the corners of his mouth when he promised always to be hers—it was as if it had happened to someone else. It was a tale told by a priestess to ailing children, to help them fall asleep. It was not her story. Never again hers. She could neither cry over the loss nor even truly feel it anymore.

There could be no such distance for this child, and child she still was. The pain in her too-wide eyes as she experienced the first impact of the intolerable truth was terrible, even for the impassive Kikyo, as she watched it hit, helpless to stop or even slow the crushing wave. She reached out and grabbed the child, took her tightly into her arms. "Hush," she whispered, "hush," folding into living but lifeless arms where she rocked her.

Rin could see nothing but red. Eyes open or closed, it made no difference. Tear-flooded and aching, her vision bled red, the red of betrayal. The world inside her was tainted, stained, washed in red, and there was no outside world at all. She felt pressure around her and knew, vaguely, that she was being held. She heard soft sounds and knew, dimly, that they were sounds of comfort. But it was the redness that gripped her. A red pain, searing. The demon's treachery had penetrated her eyes, stabbed them, blinded her into a deep, awful blood-vision. It overflooded her heart, stole her senses.

Suddenly, Rin wrenched herself from Kikyo's grasp and began tearing at her bandages, ripping them from her body, scraping and clawing her flesh as well. Kikyo fought to contain her, to stop the damage, to control the destructiveness. She did not try to speak to the child, to bring her back from the madness that was so clearly gripping her. The priestess had faith she would soon calm enough to reach her mind. For now, she must simply not be permitted to injure herself anew. Her body must be allowed to rest even though her heart could not.

Rin grabbed, ripped, moaned, scratched. She had to let the redness out. It wanted to flow, escape her, cover everything. Yes. Let it come. Let her share the blood-vision with the nothingness that was also her. The redness was right; it belonged. Only she did not belong. Let the redness be free of her tainted corpse. She was dead and must free the blood. But no, something was stopping her, fighting her. She resisted, struck out with all her meager strength. She must succeed…she must….

Kikyo sighed as her charge lost consciousness again. She hated to be grateful for such a thing, but it was best. Now she could tend and bandage her again, soothe her in sleep, and hope that the next time she awoke she would no longer wish to die. Only one who had died and been returned to the world, still unalive, could know how precious life truly was. The priestess no longer harbored ill-will for any living being that existed in peace. Seeing Rin battle inner demons that were the result of the assault of a living demon tested her resolve for the first time in years.

Kikyo knew the truth, at least insofar as Sesshomaru himself knew and was willing, in his terse way, to tell it. He had recovered pieces of an enchanted sword. And, so he claimed, they had somehow possessed him. Jaken was bearing them and keeping as far from his lord as he could, while they traveled to have them bound by the monk Miroku's powerful spells. Kikyo, as experienced in masking her emotions as the inuyokai, felt the truth of his words. He had not meant to attack his mate. She believed that. Yet, still, she loathed him for it.

Above all, he had no right to claim the human as his mate. He knew nothing of sacrifice, nothing of selflessness. He simply took what he wanted and denied the consequences. Lessons in humility were painful and hard-won, and they were perhaps never truly learned. But, over the years, Kikyo had tried to learn. She had released Inuyasha from her thrall, from an impossible love that had turned dark and strangled them both. It had helped her justify her continued existence. Now, perhaps, caring for Rin, helping her survive the agony and come to own herself again, would release her from yet another level of self-hatred and shame.

It was dark when Rin found herself awake again. She knew where she was, and that she was safe, for the moment. Sitting up, she felt the pressure of the bandages, the ache of healing wounds. The red vision was gone now. She watched the yellow-orange flames flicker from across the room. Before the firepit was Kikyo, a calm, detached presence who would offer neither unwelcome affection nor cloying pity. She was grateful for this. Rin needed space now to think.

Kikyo turned, asked her how she felt. Rin replied without thinking and lay back down. Closing her eyes, she probed her mind tenderly and recalled the way the red vision had urged her to tear open her body. It had felt so necessary. But it was unreal. A delusion. She would stay centered now; she must. Kikyo had said her body would mend, and that was all she needed to do right now. Mend. She breathed deeply, trying to relax and ignore the images of violence and violation that tugged at the edges of her consciousness. But soon it was not only remembrance of the recent past that haunted her. Torture came anew as she realized the agony of craving her mate's scent while knowing it was he who had left her in this state. Sesshomaru had destroyed her love and her trust, abandoned her, and left her to suffer withdrawal with no remedy.

She began to shake and sob, and Kikyo quickly came to her side and held her again, quietly murmuring promise of a relief that she could not hope to provide. As the sharpness of her soul-pain rose, however, the truth struck Rin with fierce accuracy: if she wished to live—and she did—then the inuyokai could not. Pressing away and looking up into Kikyo's distant eyes through a flow of tears, she summoned a small, still voice and made her demand: "Help me kill him, Kikyo, before he kills me."

The priestess gazed down at the suffering child and found herself staring beyond and through her to the image of a white-haired hanyo, pinned to a tree by her arrow. She blinked away the vision and refocused on the broken creature before her. How much more would she be made to suffer at the daiyokai's hands? Before she intended to reply, she had: "I will help you, Rin."


	8. Chapter 8

© Salome Wilde, 2008

New Beginnings

Author's Note: I am indebted to influence from the AU writing of talonsage and jenerikbrand for my choices in depicting Miroku here. Though this is by no means the "Daddy" Miroku of their world, he is gently inspired by it.

Chapter 8

Had the monk been the type to take offense at a visitor choosing to remain in visual but not speaking distance, or had he not recognized instantly the sword fragments Jaken held out, or had he not known too well the anti-social temperament of Lord Sesshomaru, he would have smiled at the odd combination of circumstances that faced him. Because they had wakened him—or perhaps roused was the best word—it took a hefty swig or two of sake to fully collect his thoughts as he looked at the broken weapon parts on the mat between him and the little green yokai opposite him. The creature was blinking up at him, waving off proffered libation, and repeating, "Well, Lord Monk, can you seal the accursed thing or can you not?"

Of course he could, he thought, reaching a rough-nailed finger into his robes to scratch his ample belly. Did anything feel so good as scratching where one itched? he mused, smiling, and Jaken clearly mistook the grin for an answer to his question.

"Lord Sesshomaru will do you the honor of entrusting you with the item, then, for safekeeping." He reached into a pouch entwined into his belt and lay ample coinage on the mat beside the sword.

Miroku nodded and immediately began to calculate the value of the coins in sake and whores.

The yokai, an expression of concern on his face that the monk would have taken for disrespect if he cared what little toad demons thought of him, rose and bowed slightly, then turned and walked to his master. Sesshomaru, who still sat, impassively, said something quietly to his follower, and Jaken returned. "Lord Sesshomaru will remain while you prepare and apply the ofuda."

"As you wish," replied Miroku, offhandedly. "But first I have got to take a dump." He finished the drops of alcohol in his cup, left sword and coins where they were, and strolled from his modest hut into the nearby woods. Facing a productive day's work always gave him the runs.

Sesshomaru watched the monk waddle away with disdain. How unhealthy the mortal looked. Yet, he acknowledged, he seemed contented enough. And he knew the creature capable of the task he was setting. That bodily discipline was unnecessary for mental and spiritual power seemed entirely wrong to the slender, flat-muscled demon, but it seemed to have its occasional manifestation as truth. Jaken returned to tell him where the monk had gone, and Sesshomaru gave a barely perceptible nod and told his vassal to return to the hut and wait for him. They would not be leaving until the daiyokai could be certain—could actually feel—the power of the sword lessen.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, rhythmically. Behind his eyelids, he saw fleeting images of the terror he had wrought upon his mate, and he willed himself neither to wince nor to force the vision away. It was a truth he needed to face, now and for the rest of his existence. True, the sword had possessed him with a power he would not have given it credit when it was whole, let alone broken and incomplete. Yet it had accomplished its foul mission, and now he could sense Rin's anguish even at this ample distance. The discomfort in being so far from her—a product of their bond as mates—was easy enough to control for Sesshomaru. The pain and anger that came to him from her in distant waves was far less so. She had right, to all she felt and more. He had failed her, grossly, and whatever retribution she chose was her due. He knew she would not die from the wounds, but he had killed her heart, and must find means of restoring it to her, no matter the cost.

As this thought came to him, so came another: did he mean what he was implying to himself? Would he yield his life for her? She had been with him such a very short time, been his mate only the blink of an eye in terms of his many years of existence. She was human, mortal, weak. Precious to him, without question. Inexplicably so in many ways, yes. But she was his and he had damaged her in body and soul, and there must be restitution.

The priestess Kikyo was tending to her body, with more skill than he had. This was the first necessary element. And he was far from her yet with his aura unshielded from her. This was also necessary, lest she suffer from withdrawal, even as she no doubt raged from his betrayal and his violence. Soon, when he was certain the magical weapon could not longer possess him (cursed though he was for having been weak and prideful enough to allow it access to his mind and body), he would go back to her and offer explanation, without excuse. He would not return overhastily, for the stronger she was in body, the better she would be able to confront him.

He exhaled audibly, eyes still shut. He was lying to himself now, and this would not do. He was going to return slowly because he could not bear to see her still so fragile, so wounded from his attack. Possessed or not, he should have been able to stop himself. He raged inwardly at the trapped soul in the sword that would use his powerful body to wrong his human mate. Cowardly and purposeful or insane and blind, the flashes of memory tore at him, until his claws drew blood in his curled palms. Everything else be damned: she was his mate and he would do what it took to return her strength and confidence to her.


	9. Chapter 9

© Salome Wilde, 2008

New Beginnings

Author's Note: My apologies for being so long away from this story. This chapter makes plain this will be a novel unto itself, despite my promise that I will never write an inunovel! Darn it. Couldn't resist this direction since knowing how the manga ends. My Kikyou lives, my SessRin are mates, and my MirSan goes awry...but not forever! Despite this turn in the road, I promise the SessRin romance will be at the heart of it all, and, as I've told those who've asked, **there will be no murder or other death in this fic!!** I try not to go too fluffy, but happy ending for sure. In other words, fear not, but the angst will be hot n heavy always.

Chapter 9

Once he returned from relieving himself—reappearing from the bushes with an enormous satisfied yawn and stretch that Sesshomaru found grotesquely unnecessary—Miroku sat back down on his meditation cushion at the door of his hut and set himself to the task of comprehending the nature of the sword's possession. The monk already knew the tales of the relic and that it had long been under powerful ward. He knew no more than Sesshomaru as to who had broken it and why, and he marveled that the spirit that possessed it could still be active despite the damage and separation of the pieces. The blade section he lifted and turned delicately in his fingertips—his coarseness somehow had not stolen his dexterity, Sesshomaru noted—was decorated with ornate, ancient script that glowed with a pale blue light.

Suddenly, Miroku's violet eyes glowed blue, too, and he began to read from the sword in a hoarse voice that was not his own: "Forever entwined as it has been decreed, Daikano, the Black Bull of Tamba, will have his evil turned to good within this weapon. His crimes are herein named so that all who…" His voice faltered and his head dropped, then snapped up again. The glow was faint but still in his eyes. Miroku blinked in obvious confusion. "I have got to stop drinking the dregs of the barrel," he muttered.

Jaken's eyes bulged and he stuttered, "M-m-my Lord Sesshomaru! H-h-how did he—?"

Sesshomaru raised a finger to silence his chattering vassal and reflected. Like Souunga, the sword was possessed of a powerful demon; unlike that ensouled weapon, this one continued to possess even though broken. And its powers were not only that of the legendary Black Bull, but also somehow those of the monks who forged it and now used Miroku to speak.

Sesshomaru had heard of Daikano, of course, but he did not know this sword held his spirit. The ancient yokai was said to have slaughtered thousands in an instant, becoming stronger with each kill. He attacked with his huge, removable horns that he would fling at enemies, releasing a deadly sandlike spray from within them. Contact with only one granule was enough to kill, reducing the victim instantly to sandlike crystals himself, only to be sucked back up into the horn as it boomeranged back into Daikano's mighty fist. None could get close enough to destroy the demon, until an order of monks convinced Daikano that they worshiped him and could fashion a sword from some of the "sand" to further magnify his power. The vain creature acquiesced and, so the legend said, was absorbed himself and sealed into the weapon. Its power was as legendary as the bull yokai himself; however, Sesshomaru had not known the broken weapon he took in his father's name was the Daikano Sword. That damned bull had turned him into the beast that had raped Rin, might even have killed her had he not fled. He fumed, itching to bring the monster back to life that he might truly destroy him rather than trust frail wards to keep Daikano bound.

"Monk," Sesshomaru said, without emotion, "are you aware of what you just uttered?"

"Yeah," replied Miroku. "That I need to stop drinking the—"

"No," snapped Sesshomaru. "The sword: you spoke its tale without awareness. This is the blade that holds the soul of Daikano, the Black Bull. Reach inside yourself—I believe you are now possessed by the monks who crafted it."

Miroku looked down at his hands, then gently placed the sword piece onto the ground before him. He felt something stirring within him, something powerful but not malevolent. As for the sword, he knew well the name and the infamous tales of slaughter that went with it.

"Monk, my request of you has altered. I no longer wish the sword sealed. I want you to help me to release Daikano."

Jaken sputtered his hysterical disagreement with Sesshomaru's change of course but was quickly silenced with a look.

Miroku, by contrast, liked the change in demand. It had been long since he had had opportunity to defeat a foe as powerful as Daikano was said to be. And there was that growing hum in his mind—reflected in the blue shadowy glow in his eyes—that urged him on. Yes, it came from the sword, clearly, but it was not Daikano. It felt almost like the inspirational boost he got from the first drink of the morning. The defeat of Naraku came immediately to mind as he contemplated Sesshomaru's request. That was a decade ago yet still somehow fresh and easy to bring forward in his thoughts. Life was very different then.

He remembered the way his Sango looked in her slayer garments…flying behind her on Kirara's strong back…his hand on her ass before she'd strike him. He missed those days almost as much as more recent times, when they'd shared home and bed together…before he'd lost her. He pushed the pain away and let his mind remain in the past, where Inuyasha would leap into melee without planning or forethought, where Kagome's optimism reigned and her arrows flew so true… He rubbed his hand, now no longer cursed. That was the beginning of the end for them all, even where the endings were happy. Lifting his gaze again to the golden-eyed yokai's, Miroku smiled. "All right, Sesshomaru, I'm your monk. What's the plan?"

Jaken looked as if he were about to speak again, but stopped himself before he bothered.

Sesshomaru would have smiled at the monk's eagerness and Jaken's silence, if he ever did smile. Instead, he formulated the path ahead as he spoke: "First, you devise wards so that when I allow myself to be again possessed, I do not harm you…or anyone else. Then, I let the sword take me, and we find that missing third piece. Once we have them all, we bring Daikano out, and I destroy him, once and for all."

"I agree, with a few stipulations."

Sesshoumaru nodded once, willing to hear but perhaps not to agree to the terms the monk might set.

"First, we test whether you truly can stay in control once Daikano possesses you. I suggest we leave you alone with Jaken in my hut awhile," he smirked, pointing at the huffy little toad.

"My Lord," Jaken began, but his sentence was interrupted by Sesshomaru's fist.

"Once we are certain you won't simply kill him, me, and anyone else you can reach, we go. And when we find the sword and I reunite its pieces and, if I can, release Daikano, you agree not to fight him alone."

"What nonsense is this, monk?" Sesshomaru growled.

"I help you fight it and, if they agree to the risks—as I know they will—we get Inuyasha, Kagome,…and Sango to battle Daikano together."

"Foolish sentimentalist," Sesshomaru scoffed. "Bring back the 'good old days,' hmm? When you were not such a pitiful excuse for a pitiful human, when my brother was more than a mate for that puerile miko, and when you had your fertile little slayer by your side…"

"Yes," snapped Miroku, eyes flashing. He would not deny it. He hefted his girth from his seat and rose before Sesshomaru. "Do you agree, yokai?"

Sesshomaru rose too, as lofty and elegant as he had ever been. "We shall see, monk. For now, create your ofuda so we may see whether you and Jaken remain alive until the morning."

Jaken swallowed audibly and whined, "As my Lord Sesshomaru commands."


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: Well. It has been more than a year since I have read the first chapters of this story, though it has pushed and prodded at my mind for some time. In reading it, I was treated to some seriously purple prose (Sesshoumaru's "tawny orbs," forsooth!), some wildly AU elements that were not so wildly so when I began it (before the manga ended and when I was more a child of the anime than the manga in any case), and a plot promising more than my mind could offer back then. I turned to LiveJournal and its bounty of contest comms, to crackfic of slutty Kagome in "Dear Diary" and modern-day Naraku's misadventures, and to yuri and ample yaoi. But my romance-novel style Sess/adultRin compels me, and so here I am. I offer this little summation chapter to say I'm back and hope to work steadily on this story over the coming months. Let me know if you're still reading, ok?

New Beginnings

Sango smiled as she watched her twins, now nearly as old as Kohaku when he had been possessed by Naraku but living far more humble and happy lives, as they fought over who would change the baby's diapers. Kohaku, after a short time with Sesshoumaru and Rin, had returned to her side, and they had resolved to speak of the past only as it suited the boy, now a man. His quietness had never returned to the boisterous, open-hearted child he had long ago been, but he loved his nephews and nieces, and took good care of them as well as his sister, who had been too long apart from Miroku to be her former self either.

They made a family as needs drove, with ample love if less free-spirited pleasure than one would have hoped for after Naraku's destruction. They had watched Kikyou return once more to her strange half-life, appearing one day, naked and glowing, as if a gift from the gods themselves, and then she had wandered off to her solitary life. Even Kagome could not but wish her well, and Inuyasha had paid his respects with his wife's blessings.

And they had seen the love and the tragedy of Kagome's attempts to conceive until at last, only in the past year, had she brought forth life as she so longed to do for her mate. Eien was born the same year as Sango had her latest, a little boy who looked so like his father that it brought tears to the former slayer's eyes. No Miroku but this little waddling testament, being chased by his siblings and her Kohaku as well, all around the clothesline and in and around their large, comfortable hut. Sango's double pallet remained half empty, but all else was as it should be.

"Perhaps one day…" Kagome would say as she fed her babe from a body that was lush and mature with motherhood, and her voice would trail off.

Sango never replied. In her heart, she longed for the return of the one and only man for her, the perverse and hard-drinking monk with the curse that ran so much deeper than any wind tunnel could plumb. _Perhaps_, she prayed.

- - -

Rin grew stronger in the days that followed her resolution to destroy her one true love, her mate, and her abuser. Her determination was like its own demonic possession, fueling and driving her. Her eyes glowed with tenacity. And Kikyou's need to keep Rin alive and aimed at the future kept her from knowing how to reroute the girl from the path she had chosen. Bandages grew smaller and became unnecessary in some healed places. Rin queried about poison for arrow tips and Kikyou became her teacher in the art of archery. For Kikyou it was a time to feel useful, and what harm in teaching Rin such skills? In the end, she hoped that by the time her charge was fully healed and armed, somehow Sesshoumaru would have found a way to make this right. No such method came to mind, but he simply had to. Though Kikyou would indeed not lament the loss of the arrogant inuyoukai to the world, she knew that his demise would truly kill Rin. Her priestess' sensitivities let her sense Rin's pain as the child-woman mourned through the burning eyes of imminent vengeance; yet she also felt the aura of their bond. There was none stronger, except perhaps that of the hard-won love of her former cherished hanyou and his bride.

"I wonder where he cowers," Rin asked one night as Kikyou bathed her.

Kikyou doubted he ever "cowered" anywhere, but she understood Rin's fury. The girl missed her Lord, no matter how she might cover it in anger. "No matter," the priestess replied. They would seek him out or he would return, soon enough.

- - -

Miroku and Jaken indeed survived the night of releasing the power of the sword pieces with Sesshoumaru near. He devised ornate sutras that would reroute Daikano's might into Sesshoumaru while giving the inuyoukai the power to control him. Daikano fought, and it was terrible to witness the distorted expressions in Sesshoumaru's eyes and the way he growled and strained to maintain his power. Miroku drank many a cup of sake, certain his life would end this night, while Jaken shivered and begged the gods for mercy. By morning, Miroku felt a zest for life he had not known in years, while Jaken simply passed out cold in relief. The possessed but self-controlled Sesshoumaru simply slung the imp over his shoulder and bade Miroku pack the two portions of the sword onto his back and grab his staff. He was certain he knew exactly where the third piece lay. Soon, Daikano would be brought back to life before him, and he would bring his slain body to Rin as the beginning of his repentance. And then he would offer her his head.


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note: The action begins!

Chapter 11

A trek of eight days was no hardship for the Lord of the Western Lands, not for his body in any case. But the exhaustion suffered in the flesh by the out-of-shape Miroku and short-legged Jaken, Sesshoumaru labored with in the mind. Daikano found ever knew ways to plague his thoughts, from bringing forth images of his attack on Rin to depicting Sesshoumaru himself tortured while his mate watched. The latter, disappointingly to the malevolent spirit of the great bull youkai, actually fueled the inuyoukai's current state of self-loathing quite effectively, hastening his pace and determination. Miroku could only sigh and struggle to catch up while Jaken whined and called after his Lord piteously.

By the time they reached the small monastery by the edge of the sea where Sesshoumaru now knew the missing segment of the sword rested in a monk's plain grave, Miroku had walked and sweated off at least half of his sake-bloated belly girth. Jaken professed that he might die before the true battle even began, but Sesshoumaru had long ago learned to tune out his complaints and Miroku was quickly picking up the art.

Sesshoumaru and Jaken remained at the fringes of the forest beyond the monastery while Miroku went inside to request provisions after a quick bath in the ocean. The few wrinkled and toothless monks who maintained the crumbling residence that housed the remnants of a long-forgotten sect were surprised to receive a visitor, and happily gave him sustenance and offered him a bed. He was shocked to find that they seemed not to notice that he carried two of the three sword pieces on his back. Neither did they seem at all to sense Sesshoumaru, and that was as well for all concerned. They would come back at night to dig up and retrieve the sword, and Miroku took this opportunity to look around for a shovel as he was escorted into the small, occupied wing of the monastery.

He was also grateful for the plain yet ample provisions, given that Sesshoumaru had been unwilling to give him much time for fishing or finding other opportunity to eat regularly and sufficiently. And as they chatted casually, he found he was also thankful for the company of a few quiet, mortal souls. It made him miss his Sango tremendously, as she had always been a wonderful conversationalist, with her tales of slayer training, family love, and affection for her "horny houshi." He never tired of her company, and he lamented anew what a fool he had been to turn so deeply into self-pity and self-loathing that he had lost the one woman in the world who loved him truly for all that he was—from the best to the worst of him.

The monks offered comfort for what they saw to be his loneliness in his travels, for they claimed to sense the nature of his pilgrimage easily, and he smiled sadly, pleased that he could share his personal woes then brag of his growing children and his determination to be worthy someday again of claiming his role as their father. The wise old men nodded and patted his shoulder, knowing that Buddha would lead him along the right path. Hence, he did not tell them of any of the true details of his quest, did not have to explain that there was a highly volatile taiyoukai possessed by another highly volatile and infamous youkai just beyond the monastery grounds. Instead, he thanked them for their food and their counsel, offered to place a few sutras to protect them from any dangers that might come their way (without naming what they might entail), and took some extra rice for later (in truth for Jaken). He then departed in the opposite direction from which he had come and returned, by a circuitous route, to his companions.

Sesshoumaru was easy enough to find, regardless of the route, for his possessed aura was impossible to shield by this time, especially in such close proximity to the sword. Jaken scoffed at the flavorless rations brought him but ate them nonetheless. Miroku could not take his petulance seriously, especially when it swiftly became a fawning desperation whenever his Lord grew the slightest bit impatient or angry with him. The longer they were together, the more the monk became certain the little green follower lived to be abused by his Lord. Well, let them each process their personal demons on their own time: Sesshoumaru's need was most pressing.

A silent afternoon was spent by all, with Jaken and Miroku sleeping most of it away, and Sesshoumaru pacing and grinding his teeth, carrying on some inner monologue that the drowsing monk could only be appreciative of not to have to hear aloud.

"Will the sunset never come," Sesshoumaru ground out, claws digging deep crescents into his palms, as Daikano's bloodlust filled his eyes to red. Only when he was more certain of innocents being out of reach would he head to the little cemetery and retrieve the final section that would allow him to bring the cursed beast back out of his body and into some form of his own that he might fight and end this nightmare. Or at least begin the retribution and reclaiming of some fraction of his self-respect. Of the rest, of Rin, he could not allow himself to think.

As he watched the two with whom he traveled in sleep—his longtime servant and the powerful yet ridiculous monk—he found himself wanting to kick them both…or worse. Daikano, of course, wanted to slit their throats with Sesshoumaru's poisoned talons and watch their blood run. But Sesshoumaru merely wanted to rid himself of the image of Miroku's bemused grin when he had demanded that they wait until nightfall to claim the sword fragment. He accepted the ridicule as his due, for he had softened since taking Rin back from Kaede and making her his mate. Yet it was more for the recent violence he had done her than any increased concern for the petty lives of mortals that he showed mercy now. Morever, he sensed clearly that Daikano's control would grow if he were allowed to act on his bloodthirstiness. That was not going to happen. Not again. Never again.

When, at last, the blue of the sky became a lush burnt orange and then began to fade to night, Sesshoumaru woke Jaken with that kick he had been long anticipating and gave Miroku a good one two. Both groused in their predictable ways, but were quickly and efficiently alert and ready to follow. Miroku had learned the elderly monks went to sleep at moonrise and easily snuck inside to find a few old but serviceable shovels to ease their task. Sesshoumaru waited uneasily until at last they made their way to the cemetery at the sea and inhaled the freshness of that salt air with growing confidence. Soon he would have the article he sought.

Miroku caught the gleam in Sesshoumaru's eye as they approached the grave they sought, its marker so weather-beaten as to be illegible. Who would suspect such a remote and forgotten location for so mysterious and dangerous an item as a piece of the legendary sword that held Daikano?

"Remember your promise that we won't unleash this monster until we let the others know," Miroku reminded, for all the world sounding like some absurd human mother scolding her child. But it was true, he had agreed to Miroku's terms, and he did need Miroku's assistance to rebind the pieces of the sword to release Daikano fully. Thus, he would have to suffer Inuyasha's meddling assistance, and the monk and his idiot hanyou brother might even be fool enough to involve their mates.

Again Rin came to mind. He could see her so clearly now with her staff, demanding to be allowed to fight, too. "I am not your servant but your mate!" she would insist, and though such confrontations were necessarily a thing now of a dim past he could never recover after having done he such grievous wrong, Sesshoumaru could not help but wish he could have her arms around him, childlike and absolute in her love, one last time before the battle.

Such idle and purposeless thoughts were swept clean as Daikano laughed from within his mind. "She broke so easily," a gruff, demented snort of a voice projected. And Sesshoumaru projected back the image of a battlefield strewn with bloody pieces of a dismembered bull youkai.

Even that small pleasure, however, did not remain long in his mind, for the moment Miroku's shovel struck ground, there was an eerie howl from the direction of the monastery. As the trio turned in the direction from which the sound came—Jaken hoisting his staff (for indeed he had not bothered yet to even touch a shovel, insisting Miroku do the "dirty work") and Sesshoumaru unsheathing his sword—there came two flying, bug-eyed creatures, moldering spirit forms of the monks from the monastery. Spitting words that scarcely made sense, he quickly informed Sesshoumaru that the men he met were no demons—his skills at reading auras had not deteriorated _that_ far—but these creatures were certainly using their souls to keep this grave from being uncovered.

"The demon shall not be wakened!" one shrieked as it launched itself at Miroku, who batted it with the shovel he held as a crude weapon until he could retrieve his staff.

"Death to the violators!" cried the other, lunging at Sesshoumaru who deftly sidestepped and awaited its next move.

From within, Sesshoumaru could feel Daikano's menacing grin.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

As the creature that had attacked and missed its target in Sesshoumaru spun about and flung itself in Jaken's direction, the little youkai commanded his staff of two heads to spit fire at the abomination. There was no effect; the creatures were more wraith than substance.

Miroku concluded as he swung his shovel and felt the cool chill of malice attempt to enter his body by the touch of the screeching being that the monks of this small order had been possessed by those who were protecting the fragment of the sword that held Daikano. Perhaps they were next-generation devotees of the powerful men who had first imprisoned the bull, deciding to carefully fracture the weapon and further ensure Daikano could never emerge.

He posited that when the bodies of those who had long ago lost their independent identities would have died naturally, the determined monks' determined spirits had kept the flesh animated. And it was these artificially animated corpses to whom he had been speaking that day. It frustrated him to know he had used his powers so infrequently in the past year and kept his senses so dampened by sake that he had suspected nothing more than that they were a bit "strange" because they were so old and isolated. His palm itched suddenly, and he wished for just a moment that he was cursed still. He grumbled as he reached into a gap in his robes and withdrew an ample handful of powerful sutras for the creature's next pass. While it was right to keep Daikano from breaking forth into the world again, the task of its prevention over time had created its own complications. How easily those who intend good can find their existence more ambiguous, he thought, watching the pop-eyed bugaboo swerve to attack again.

If he fought these lesser opponents, thought Sesshoumaru, he would merely rouse the bull's power within himself. He had control, and would not lose it. The spirits were clearly attempting to protect the world from Daikano's return, and he doubted he could explain to them that returning him to fleshly form was the best idea, and exactly his plan. Daikano's chuckle in his mind made clear that he was enjoying Sesshoumaru's little dilemma, though both the inuyoukai and his mental inhabitant shared the goal of reaching that sword fragment. He could not, however, rely on Daikano to act rationally. The bull relished the fight Sesshoumaru promised him when returned to his body, but Sesshoumaru felt the madness that would allow him to defeat his own resurrection just to take over the inuyoukai's body once more and slice both Jaken and Miroku into bite-sized pieces.

Sesshoumaru snarled and sheathed his sword, allowing the others to take the lead in the skirmish. He itched to unleash Tenseiga, but he could not be sure whether his motives were his own, so he forebear. Daikano's snort in his mind confirmed the rightness of his actions. Jaken, realizing his weapon had no power, quickly followed suit, running to stand behind his master.

Miroku berated his companions for their lack of effort then began to chant as he ran back at full tilt to the monastery. The chanting had the intended effect, and both creatures followed him, yowling in distress as his words obviously weakened them. Miroku glanced back, finding them both fascinating and repugnant as their pearly eyes darted from loose sockets. A few sutras on the entrance to the monastery should serve to sever spirit from the host body to which each was attached.

Soon the spirits overtook Miroku, however, railing and plunging through his body as their translucent pigment darkened like clouds before a thunderstorm. Miroku felt the surprising frailty of their aura as he continued out-of-breath chanting and urged his legs to hasten their pace. He reeled from the impact of the icy malevolence of the pair as they struck him, but the effect passed quickly. These lesser descendents of the original monks who sealed Daikano had weakened further in their long, long half-lives. There was only so long one could prevent the past from catching up with one, thought the puffing Miroku as he reached out and slapped a sutra on the monastery archway. The responding whine did his heart good. He still had it.

Sesshoumaru listened to Miroku's chanting and felt Daikano bristle inside him. The monk's gate was pathetically slow—Jaken could probably overtake him—but the passes of the spirits did not seem to slow him overmuch, so long as he kept chanting. And then, when he reached the monastery, he observed with an inward smile as the wheezing monk flung sutra after sutra, panting with effort. Absurd how he'd let himself go. Despite the not unimpressive abilities and fortitude he had show years ago in the battle with Naraku, he had let the lack of a quest weaken him and had given himself over to lethargy and drink. Well, better that than raising children, the arrogant Lord mused. And then his heart clenched. A sudden image of Rin, belly swollen with child, rose before him, and he winced at the reality that his seed—forced from him by Daikano—had been given.

Sesshoumaru kicked Jaken to release a touch of his frustration, and pointed to the shovel.

Jaken bemoaned his Lord's harsh treatment under his breath, but took up the tool and got to work.


	13. Chapter 13

Author's Note: Another year and more I've let this sit? Is it possible? How dreadful. I've had a spring and summer from hell, but I'm determined to do this story justice. So, here I am again, hoping there are some readers still out there, and our heroes are hurtling toward the battle…and wronged women confronting their men.

**Chapter 13**

With a cumbersome tool too big for his little body to wield well and with the assistance of an out-of-breath but smirking monk, Jaken eventually wrested the remains of long, dark wooden box, locked and covered with sutras but splintered and easy enough to open with a blow of the shovel's head. Within, wrapped in moldering cloth and glowing before Miroku's eyes as brightly as a living demon, was a shining sword's tip.

As he rose, Miroku wrapped the precious fragment back into the tattered sheet, covered it with a few sutras, and folded it into his robes. He pretended not to notice Sesshoumaru's gaze burning into his back as he worked, but when he turned, he could not ignore the sight. The dog demon's eyes were bright fire, his fists had drawn blood from his palm with poisoned claws, and he was panting with effort. He labored to contain Daikano, the monk knew, only because he had insisted on it. Failing his promise to protect Rin, he was now going to allow Inuyasha, Kagome, Sango, and himself to gather to fight the damned bull. Miroku could feel his need to make amends. Was it possible such amends even extended to helping him reunite with Sango. Well, miracles happened; he had seen such with his own eyes when at last Naraku was defeated and when, soon after, his beloved slayer became his wife and then gave him children. How had he been such a fool as to throw it all away? He quickly made a vow to himself not only to win Sango back but to do what he could for Sesshoumaru and Rin. The daiyoukai's suffering was plain, and wasn't there enough suffering already in the world.

Jaken scurried over to the pack carrying the first two pieces and called to Miroku. "Hurry up, you fool," he squawked. "Can you not see Lord Sesshoumaru can withstand little more?"

Sesshoumaru snarled at the implications of his vassal's words, but took the cue even faster than Miroku. The bull would have his day, but the battle would not take place here or now. Knowing he could control himself around two but not all three pieces of the terrible sword, Sesshoumaru gripped Jaken by the collar and took to the sky. Pointing a long-taloned finger at Miroku, he snarled in a voice not entirely his own, "We will meet at the north edge of the forest of Inuyasha's village. Jaken will inform them…and your slayer, too. We will wait for you, monk. Do not tarry."

Miroku nodded his assent and took off through the woods. Sesshoumaru and Jaken would no doubt arrive far sooner than he, and the waiting would be difficult for them all. But he felt great strength and purpose in his soul. Even sake did not tempt him. He would pause for rest or food as little as he could. He would summon strength and courage from the depths of a disused body and mind. And together, he and Sesshoumaru, with the help of the others, would defeat Daikano and all return to rights.

As her arrow sank into a distant target, Rin suddenly sank to her knees. She was no longer wounded in body, and this was no bodily pain. She clutched her chest and felt a dark, wrenching anguish whose source she could not determine. She looked wildly around her and then at her body. No blood, no danger nearby that she could determine. And then it eased, slowly, until she was herself again.

"Kikyou?" she called but remembered quickly that her companion was visiting another village this day, tending to the sick. How the priestess had changed she had relinquished Inuyasha and her own life for him, then come back, once more, to life. In their time together, as Rin healed, Kikyou had told her of her strange journey, her reawakening on a hillside, with the name of Suikotsu on her lips. Had the two-minded mercenary found a way to defeat his own death and revivify the priestess? Kikyou did not know, but she no longer needed to capture souls, even as she was no longer truly alive. It was a miraculous existence, cleaned of vengeful thoughts, and she accepted it, for as long as it would last. Perhaps, she said, protecting Rin was the reason for her continued presence in the world. Rin drank of her generosity, though she still burned with the fury of the wronged. Though she knew the lesson Kikyou had learned was a vital one, she could not share the peace. "I cherish your friendship, Lady Kikyou, but if I live, Sesshoumaru cannot," she had simply said.

Sesshoumaru. The pain had gone, but she wondered. Was the pain his? She had fought with success the desire to touch his soul with her own for long, terrible weeks. He had not shut himself away from her, though he should hide in shame. Now, without truly intending to, her mind reached out to the mate who had left her ruined. Despite herself, she touched his aura - and felt herself sharply repelled! She fought the rebuff like a physical blow, but somehow she knew, without question, that Sesshoumaru was not doing so to harm her. Fearing to trust her instincts, but knowing she must, Rin ran back to the hut and began to pack her belongings. Inuyasha's village. She must go. She did not know why, only that she must. She would wait for Kikyou, then she would go.

Something terrible was brewing, and her mate—her beautiful, awful mate—was at the heart of it. Her time for revenge was nigh. And so much sooner than she thought, she would reap it.


End file.
